Valli turned around to look. There was a bullock cart in front and a crowd behind it, all crawling toward the municipal office. Since the crowd had to squeeze itself into the narrow lane, it was stretched out long and appeared to be bigger than it actually was. The scene petrified Valli. He rushed anxiously into the building and climbed the stairs two at a time, his rubber-soled sandals making a flapping noise as he strode past a row of clerks without so much as a glance toward them. Pushing open the half doors to the municipal commissioner’s office, he burst in. The big chair on the other side of the desk was empty. The peon was dusting files and tying them up in bundles.

“Where’s sir?” Valli asked him.

The peon went to the window, draped himself over it to hang his head outside, spat out a stream of betel juice, and then asked, “What’s the matter, annachi?”

“This is urgent. Just tell me where he is.”

“The council is in session, don’t you remember?” The peon held out his left hand toward Valli. “Give me a bit of snuff, brother!” Valli turned and stormed back down the stairs. The peon trailed after him. “Brother, come on, give me some snuff before you go,” he implored. “What’s the matter? At least tell me that.”

“The tamarind tree has been robbed. Not a single pod left,” Valli said without breaking his stride.

“So what?” the peon said, flicking his right hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Why get so agitated for that?” Losing interest, he walked back to the office.

Things were in a state of uproar in the shed. The council session was in full swing. Valli was quite accustomed to the noise. He entered the shed, walked right up to the chairman, M. C. Joseph, and stood next to his chair. Noticing the expression on Valli’s face, the chairman frowned.

“Something urgent,” Valli whispered in his ear.

“Tell me.”

Valli hesitated. He shot a quick glance outside the shed and then looked at the chairman again.

The chairman smiled pleasantly at the council members before him and quietly walked outside, keeping his head down. Outside the shed, he paused, holding a bamboo pipe that jutted from the slanting roof of the shed, and looked at Valli. Inside the shed, the council meeting had gone absolutely quiet. Neither Valli nor the chairman had to glance inside to know that everyone was watching them. Valli had planned to disclose the matter with as little fuss as possible. He now realized that he’d failed at it at the outset.

“Get on with it, man,” said the chairman.

“You know, the tamarind-tree auction was today,” said Valli, measuring his words carefully. There was a childlike innocence in his face.

“How much did it go for?”

“The auction didn’t happen.”

“Why? No one showed up?”

“No, there weren’t any pods to auction.”